Chapter One: The Object of My Secret Affection

At the end of August, the summer sun still blazed fiercely over City A. Jiang Muwen lay slumped over her desk, soaking in the cool air, drifting on the edge of sleep.

But suddenly, voices chatting outside her door snapped her wide awake.

“Wen Nuan, I heard the class placements are out. Which class did your daughter get into?” It was Su Yu, mother of Wen Yichen, from next door. Wen Nuan was Jiang Muwen’s mother.

Jiang Muwen had heard that her mother and Su Yu had known each other for years, their friendship so close that they’d coincidentally bought apartments in the same community, the same building, even the same floor. They were of similar age, and their children were in the same school year.

The moment Su Yu finished her sentence, Jiang Muwen’s heart skipped a beat—right, today was the day the class placement results were released.

First High School of City A was among the city’s very best. Every year at the end of the first year, it held a so-called “placement exam,” which, in truth, sorted students into different tiers and then assigned teachers accordingly.

“I have no idea! You know what my kid’s like—she’s probably forgotten all about it,” Wen Nuan replied, half-joking.

“What about your son, which class did he get into?” Wen Nuan asked casually.

“Class A. I always thought that boy of mine never studied, but he actually made it into Class A!” Su Yu exclaimed, her tone tinged with disbelief.

Class A—renowned as the elite class of the entire school, a class apart from all others, almost legendary.

“Your boy’s smart. It’s not that easy to get into Class A,” Wen Nuan answered with a laugh.

While the two mothers chatted happily outside, Jiang Muwen grew increasingly anxious in her room. She opened her phone, tapped into the school’s website, her finger trembling as she clicked “Check Results,” then entered her information.

Her nerves ran as high as when she’d checked her high school entrance exam scores.

Sweat had already slicked her palms. By all rights, she shouldn’t be so nervous about this.

But she had set her heart on entering the same class as Wen Yichen—not for any other reason, but simply because she liked Wen Yichen.

For two years, she’d kept this secret buried deep inside, never daring to tell a soul. She cherished that fluttering feeling from her fifteenth and sixteenth years, hiding it carefully in a corner of her heart.

Now, Wen Yichen had made it into Class A—a class she had never even dared to dream of. Aunt Su Yu’s words seemed to rise like a wall, forcibly separating her from Wen Yichen.

And yet, hope still flickered within her. With trembling thumb, she pressed the screen: “Class A… Class A… Class A!” Jiang Muwen mouthed the words, praying heaven would hear her heart’s desire.

Outside, the two women laughed on, until the sudden click of a door opening cut through the air and interrupted their conversation.

Both women looked up. Wen Nuan stared blankly as Jiang Muwen stood in the doorway, dazed, as if struck dumb by some earth-shattering news. After a long moment, she finally spoke: “Mom, I… I got into Class A.”

…

On the eve of the new term, Jiang Muwen sat quietly at her desk, organizing the textbooks she’d just brought home. One by one, she stacked them neatly into her bag.

Second-year textbooks were noticeably thicker than those from first year. Yet, staring at these daunting study guides, a strange sense of anticipation glimmered in her eyes.

Second year—how wonderful. At last, she could be in the same class as Wen Yichen.

It seemed ages since she’d last studied with him. The last time had been in the third year of middle school, when her grades were barely enough to get into an ordinary high school in City A.

Fortunately, Wen Yichen—ever so kind—had tutored her for free that year, helping her earn her place at the First High School of City A.

It was then she had fallen for Wen Yichen—after all, such a rare combination of good looks and intelligence was hard to find in the world. She truly admired him: his clarity of thought, his logical mind, every word out of his mouth seemed to be a gem.

Back then, in Jiang Muwen’s eyes, Wen Yichen was like an angel crowned with a halo—surely heaven had taken pity on her and sent Wen Yichen to rescue her from her struggles.

Though they’d been neighbors and childhood playmates, as they entered middle school, they gradually drifted apart. Part of it was because they were no longer in the same class; part of it, perhaps, was simply growing up. Girls tended to stick together, boys with boys, and the differences between them made it awkward to be as close as they once were.

And so, old childhood friends slowly became distant, until the third year of middle school—when the homeroom teacher told her mother that Jiang Muwen’s grades were just enough for an ordinary high school, and if she slipped up on the exams, she would surely fail.

The warning scared Wen Nuan, who confided in Su Yu. Su Yu, ever enthusiastic, invited Jiang Muwen over and—with both threats and promises—persuaded Wen Yichen to tutor her.

Looking back, Jiang Muwen was truly grateful to her middle school homeroom teacher. Without her, she would never have entered Class A with Wen Yichen.

And so, hoping to greet the new term with energy, Jiang Muwen climbed into bed early, heart pounding with excitement. She set several alarms to avoid oversleeping. Yet, predictably… she lay awake, unable to fall asleep.

At last, she began to doze off—just as her alarms erupted in a cacophony, like a symphony playing right in her ears.

She forced herself out of bed, patiently turned off each alarm, then collapsed back onto the mattress—after all, beds are magnets and people only iron; she barely managed to rise before being sucked right back in, telling herself, “Just ten more minutes.” That ten minutes stretched to over half an hour.

It wasn’t until a gentle knock sounded on her door, her mother’s voice drifting in from outside, that Jiang Muwen shot upright—oh no! She’d overslept!

With messy hair, she dashed into the bathroom. After quickly getting ready, she hurried to leave for school.

A bun clenched in her teeth, she’d just pulled on her shoes and was about to open the door when her mother called after her, “Sweetie, don’t rush! Take the milk with you—one for you, one for Wen Yichen.”

Wen Nuan handed her the milk as she spoke, and Jiang Muwen, holding a bottle in each hand and a bun still between her lips, pushed open the door. Just then, she heard the neighbor’s door open as well.

The next second, a tall boy—easily six feet—stepped out.

It was Wen Yichen.